


To be Made into Adults (大人にさせる)

by TheEternalEmpress



Category: One Piece
Genre: Kidnapping, Plot Twists, Supernatural Elements, anymore and I'm spoiling, sort of, that's all I'm gonna say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEternalEmpress/pseuds/TheEternalEmpress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When will you let me to adult things, Ace?" you ask, eyes shining bright and ears still wet behind. I pat your head as I smile. "When you're old enough." But, I know that isn't going to happen because I'll never let you become an adult (In which Ace and Sabo's brotherly love is contorted to a degree of no return) BrotherlyASL. AU.</p>
<p>Originally posted on April 8 at FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	To be Made into Adults (大人にさせる)

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on Karma when I read the Zolu fic Heroics by Constable Renington while listening to Wonder Wormhole sung by Gumi Megpoid - the outcome: this piece of shit right here. I don't know if its good or not, but whatever. Enjoy I guess?
> 
> Warning: Minimal grammatical errors and weird Plot twist ahead. If we're thinking in the same wavelength, then yes, this is one of those fics.
> 
> Originally posted on April 8 at FF.net

You were born just twelve minutes ago and yet you have captured mine and Sabo's hearts. You were such a tiny, squishy, red human ball that cried whenever parted from your mother's arms or mine. You were so fragile, so delicate, so innocent and so _pure_ –

When the doctors – with their trembling arms – hand you over to us, your name becomes Monkey D. Luffy and it sticks to you like we to you.

To this day, you're still fragile, delicate, innocent and pure. You come crying to me or Sabo whenever you get hurt from playing and I still have to check your closet if the Boogeyman is out to get you; you still request Sabo to cut the crust from your sandwich and I won't let you walk home by yourself from school. You always tell us that you can do these things by yourself – "I'm not a baby anymore, I'm eight!" you justify – but I always tell you the same answer all over again: "No."

But, I can never tell you 'no' – because I love you too much and I can never deny anything from you – so I promise you that I'll let you do these 'adult things' someday. You seem to be happy when I say that.

"When will you let me to adult things, Ace?" you ask, eyes shining bright and ears still wet behind.

I pat your head as I smile. "When you're old enough." But, I know that isn't going to happen because I'll never let you become an adult.

You will always be my – no, _our_ – little brother, and nothing can ever change that.

* * *

Sabo gets into an argument with Grandpa again, and I cover your ears while singing soft tones to stop you're whimpering. I know you're still a child, so young, so vulnerable, so I'm here to protect you, guard you, from people like Grandpa.

"I won't let him take you away," I whisper to you. "I promised that we'll be together, didn't I?"

You sniffle and I use my own shirt as a handkerchief you can blow on. Your snot is disgusting and there are some boogers on my shirt now, but that's okay because you're starting to smile. Your eyes twinkle like the stars and galaxies of the vast and unknown universe, and it pulls me to you every time, like the day I first saw you in your mother's arms. The scar below your right eye bothers me – it's still newly stitched and it still probably hurts – but Sabo said that it's not fatal or anything. You'll be fine.

Your 10-year old arms hug my waist – you still can't reach your hands when you hug me, I'm afraid, but you look cute when you try – and you bury your head onto my chest. I embrace you back, so that you can enjoy more of me; though when you start to get comfortable, Grandpa decides to smash more silverware and destroy some of our furniture.

Sabo and I should sue Grandpa, but we can't let our funds be wasted on things like that. We also shouldn't draw too much attention.

"I'm sorry," you say, and it breaks my heart for you to be contrite on something that you didn't even _choose_ – "I-it's all my f-fault, I should've h-have ran away like that I – "

"Don't be sorry for that, it's not your fault," I hush you as I card my hands into your soft locks. "Let the adults worry about those things, yeah? Kids like you should be playing outside and get dirty. It's our jobs as adults to fuss about adult stuff."

You don't seem satisfied with my answer, so you say "W-When will I get to help you and Sabo? I-I don't want you to deal with that sc-scary man for me.. I don't want…to be useless."

By that last word, I hug him even tighter than before, because kids like him shouldn't say words like that. "Oh, Luffy," I say as I brush more of his tears away. "You're never useless." Because you are the thing that keeps me alive, keeps my will bright and strong. For Sabo, you are the only person that gives him _hope,_ a chance for the future. "We appreciate your help, but you're too small. Wait until your old enough, alright?"

You sniff and it's the most adorable thing ever. "And when will that be?"

"When you become an adult." I answer frankly, and your eyes brighten.

"When is that?" you ask again.

I kiss your forehead. "Soon." But that's a lie.

When you're sound asleep and Grandpa has finally left, Sabo plops on the bed next to you and stares at you with stars in his eyes. He looks tired and disheveled, but one look on you and he's looks refreshed. I glare at him when he raises his left hand to touch your cheek – it's dirty and I don't want any dirt on my _precious_ – so he touches you with his right hand instead.

"What does he want?" I ask.

"To bring him back, as always" Sabo says as he brings you close to his chest. I wonder if you can hear his heart beats. "His mother is desperate to ask him, of all people."

"We will _never_ return him," I snarl and you fidget a bit, which makes Sabo send me a spiteful glare before cooing to you. I feel ashamed – how can I show this side of me to you, my _precious_ – and I leave the bed so you and Sabo can have time alone.

I peer behind the window curtains to see if Grandpa is there; he's not there anymore, and he left someone of his men sprawled on the frontyard. I sigh at the pitiful scene, then look at you – at your sleeping form. You look cute being oblivious to the workings of the world, and I think, ah, that will all change when you grow older. Once you grow old enough, you will probably lose the charm in your eyes and that wide smile; you also won't look at the world the same way again because of people like Grandpa.

So, I'll never let you become an adult; you'll never change because of the horrible, _horrible_ truths of this world and deal with problems like Grandpa bringing his men to barge into our shared home to take you away or

I'll always protect you, my _precious –_

* * *

You're older now by two years, but that's okay, because we're still taller than you and you still can't cut crust to save your life.

A lot of you changed so quickly, but Sabo waves it off and tells me it's just growth spurt. You're still Luffy and that's what matters, right?

Right.

We moved to one of Sabo's old houses in the countryside and moved you into a different school. It's too dangerous to stay in that area since Grandpa has become too adamant – too persistent – to get you and I don't think his age can hold him back anymore.

"As I expect, you're a monster," Sabo says to Garp the last time we met, and it doesn't matter if it's figurative speech or not. He's a monster, through and through, because he's come to take you away. From me. From _us._

Though, I wonder, does he look at Sabo and I like we're _the_ monsters? I guess I'll never know.

But, anyway, you're safe here now, and that's what matters the most.

I still walk you home and Sabo cuts the crusts of your sandwich. You have a lot of friends now, and I feel a little guilty for taking you away from that place because your _old_ friends are here no longer. I'll send a postcard now and then, just so they won't feel lonely without you.

I'm sure you also feel the same way because sometimes I see wrinkles folding on your forehead and your eyes looking in the far distance as if you're in deep thought.

You know, Sanji will scold you for thinking too much. It's not like you – you always act on impulse.

But, I guess that's part of growing up…Though I won't say I _like_ it.

I want you to be my little brother, and I can't have that if you're _growing_ up.

Lately, you've been distant from me and you ask me to stop coming to your room to check for monsters under your bed. It worries me. Will you ask me to stop going inside your room without permission?

My _precious_ – you're growing up, but also growing out of my reach.

I don't want you to be an adult, not just yet.

There are still too many things for me to do, and many things that you _cannot_ do.

* * *

You may have broken my heart metaphorically, but you cannot stab my heart – not yet, you're _too weak._

When I take a closer look on you, as I pin your arms and legs on the bed with my hands and knees, I think: Ah, you've grown too old. You don't look like Luffy anymore. The scar below your eye is fading now.

Sabo looks at you with utmost disappointment and quite possibly remorse, but I have grown too numb to feel those emotions anymore.

A pity. You could've been Luffy a little while longer.

I pull the stake from your grasp and the very wood burns my palms. The smoke smells like rotten flesh and decay and it makes you gag – and I'm half-appalled, half-amused. This scent is the true me; how can you _not_ smell it if you clung your disgusting arms aroung me when you were a child?

I throw it some place far, far from your reach, and now you tremble. Ah, why do you look at me like that? Are you going to beg for mercy?

"P-please…Ace," you say, but that very voice makes me cringe. I snarl at you as I listen to your voice. I don't hear Luffy's voice no longer, just a plain baritone of an aging child.

"That is not _his_ voice," I tell you as my fangs start to protrude. You are crying now, begging for Sabo to save you, but he looks at me and resigns. "Make it quick." he says. You cry even harder.

It's such a pity – those eyes are not going to save you anymore because they don't look like _Luffy's eyes._ Your imposter eyes remind us of your trickery. Tell me, how can that be forgivable?

I forced your head to turn, so you can expose your neck. Amidst the dark, Sabo's eyes starts glowing red. Bloody red. I suppose mine is glowing the same color as well, judging by the way you look at me.

"You're probably one of the closest ones, so I guess you deserve a quick death." I say and I sink my hands into your neck, while Sabo takes the crook between the neck and shoulder, feeding on the same artery. You start to wilt and pale, and soon you're nothing but a corpse.

And I look at you and scowl. "You are really not Luffy." Your corpse and his definitely do not look the same.

You're like us now – a wrinkled piece of rotten flesh and decay – but the difference is that you didn't turn like _one_ of us. The horrible face you are making makes me feel I'm at fault, but I can assure you, it's not _mine_. To tell you the truth, it's yours, because Luffy has never grown past the age of 12, yet here you are, in the prime of 13. He was so, so _young,_ so fragile, so delicate, so innocent, so _breakable –_ broken by the things that turned me and Sabo, broken all because Luffy had been mistaken for a child that they're trying to find. And now, we're just like Luffy's killers, looking for a child – for _Luffy_ – even though we know he has laid his eternal rest, decades ago.

And you, you're just another child who didn't turn up as Luffy; a child who deceived us with your charms. And, following the cycle, you perish for it.

Oh, how many children have we abducted and killed just because we thought them as Luffy? More than what we can count, probably.

Ah, but I miss him so badly – so, _so_ badly that I cannot stop.

However, you are probably the closest one to Luffy as we can possibly get and the one who brought us the most happiness...

But, in the gist of it all, you are _not_ Luffy, so you need to die.

We leave your corpse at your mother's doorstep; I suppose she's happy, you're all grown-up now. Maybe she can be proud of what you could have become.

* * *

In a nearby cottage, just a few meters from your mother's house, I hear a wailing sound of a babe. And as I peer through the window, my eyes widen.

We found another you.

Luffy.

My _precious_ –

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. Hope you enjoyed. I'm not even sure if the title ties up with the story but whatever hahaha. (This might be turned into a series so just a heads-up)


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